LOWBORN : Edmund Pevensie

10

I get dressed in Lucy's room, and then make my way back to my room. Lucy doesn't follow, she is far too busy preparing for the ball with her siblings for her attention to fall to me. Once I've slipped inside, I take the poison and put it deep into my pocket. Tonight is the ideal night to poison him and to frame Teebeth.

As I leave my room, Princess Evangeline leaves hers. We have not talked since yesterday, not even on the way home. She is wearing a different gown than the one she wore to the first dinner. I didn't know that she had brought another so elegant. It has deep red embroidery on the sleeves and red lace around her square neckline. She is wearing her tall golden crown, each point so sharp I wonder if it could cut me.

She looks more stunning than ever. The light streaming off the candles practically makes her glow. Princess Evangeline looks at me and scrunches her nose.

"That dress," she says. "People are going to ask if you're a duchess of Lumor."

Lumor has a few duchesses and dukes, and I have met a few of them. They are much older than us, though their children are not. Regardless, I hope no one mistakes me for royalty. It would be an awkward conversation to have.

"It was Lucy's idea," I say.

Her face tightens. Princess Evangeline walks closer to me, eyeing me up. She stands, our eyelines at the same level. I can feel her breath, hot and sticky, against my face. It's heavy. "Queen Lucy?"

"Yes," I answer. I know at this moment, I should curtsy, but our eyes are level, and I don't want to be the first to break eye contact. "She did say I could be less formal when addressing her. As did you, Evangeline."

She flinches backward. After blinking a few times, she smiles. "Talk to your father with that mouth?"

I turn around to head to the ballroom. My cheeks begin to heat.

Princess Evangeline knows that I'm a bastard. My mother has never told me who my father is. I assume she knows, but it is a secret that is buried alongside her. Perhaps he was a servant, perhaps he was a man she met at a pub in town, but regardless, he is not a man I talk to with any mouth.

It takes me a while to find my way. A servant redirects me to the ballroom. The last of the decorations are being put in place. A dozen tables line the north side of the room. The south has a stage with a band of musicians. Not Narnians, imports, likely from Archenland, the largest human kingdom besides Calormen. It has windows along one side, staring out into the Eastern Sea.

I mill about as the Narnians arrive. Though the Narnians claim that their servants attend events such as these, they seem much too busy to participate. I would make small talk, but I feel out of place with them now with my hair done, with make-up on, and in this dress.

Instead, I stare out the window at the Eastern Sea. The waves continue to hit against the shore. The sky has grown dark, and the candles are the only thing keeping the room lit.

It is a glorious room. The walls are white with gold and silver accents. The ceiling is painted to look like a clouded afternoon. Aslan can be seen in the sky, watching down over us.

Eventually, guests begin to arrive. Most of the Narnian honourees arrive early. Decorated war veterans and the like. Two beavers approach me, erroneously thinking I am Princess Evangeline, who has yet to arrive.

Then, people from all sorts of kingdoms pour in. Each guest is announced by a servant at the entryway. The band begins a light waltz. What I assume is a waltz anyway; I've never danced in one. I make my way over to the table, and grab a glass of champagne.